The Future is Calling
by August08
Summary: He had always been able to handle himself in a tough situation. However, when a crazed killer threatens his life, Murdoch finds himself facing down his own mortality. Though, when a detective with an unusual background appears, Murdoch finds himself with an unlikely bodyguard, which may bloom into a friendship that will span across the expanse of time.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : This is my first Murdoch Mysteries story. I've recently discovered the show and have become quite addicted to it. I've wanted to write a Murdoch story, but didn't know what it would be about. Then I realized that some original characters I had created for an original piece I had been working on in my free time fit perfectly, since the main character in the original work is a detective in the Toronto Police Department. And, then I got the idea of past detective meets future detective. And thus, this story was born. I hope you enjoy it.

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing associated with Murdoch Mysteries. I only own the OCs

* * *

Journal entry FALLEN 01:

Toronto, Ontario 2015

Ten years ago, Toronto experienced an invasion the like of which man had never seen before. They were creatures from another realm; another plain of existence. They were creatures only thought to dwell in myths.

Angels. Fallen angels, to be exact.

They attacked for a reason unknown to mankind. They were cold, ruthless; sparing no one. However, within their ranks were thirteen soldiers who banded together to fight against the Fallen.

Alucard, their leader. He had the power to command the elements and the ability to see into the minds of men.

Alias, the second-in-command. His power was to deceive. He could teleport from place to place, cast illusions and transform himself into the likeness of others.

Feril, the advisor. He could take the form of any living animal; and some mythical ones, as well as the fierce dragon.

Leet, the gamer. Lost in his own world he could bring video game characters to life, as well as place himself and others inside a video game.

Reaper, the cursed. Any who touched him were met with an early grave.

Medice, Reaper's father and the only doctor known in Fallen history.

Musicae, the musician. His gift was to sway the moods of people with his music.

Stormrider, the commander of sea and sky. He created fierce storms through the dances from his native land.

Dreamripper, the dream giver. He controlled the dreams of others, sometimes bringing their dreams, and nightmares, to life.

The twins, Pyrus and Aquas. They were called Yin and Yang and controlled fire and water.

Zoran, the time keeper. He had the power to control time; the most sacred and rarest of gifts.

And Technus, the engineer. He had control over technology, creating many wonderful, and sometimes, pesky inventions.

These thirteen fought back against the Fallen hordes and managed to drive the soldiers back to their own realm. However, the comrades were branded as traitors and were exiled to the human world.

Now, they live among the humans as normal citizens; keeping the peace as only they can. However, their skills are not only for their own time, but for wherever they are needed; past, present or future. Whenever or wherever trouble arises they're there to set things right...Though keeping their true nature a secret doesn't always work out.

* * *

Reviews are welcome, flames are not


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I know the first chapter was a bit confusing, but it'll make sense in the coming chapters. For a more not-so-confusing chapter, here's chapter 2.

 **Disclaimer** : see chapter one

* * *

 **Toronto, Ontario 1895**

" **Detective Solves Puzzling Murders. Joseph Collins Set To Hang"** read the front page headline. Detective William Murdoch set the paper down on his desk and leaned back in his chair. Another win for the Constabulary. Another criminal dead. Another family's lives ruined. Murdoch sighed and rubbed his tired, burning eyes. It had been a difficult case; and a personal one. A Constable from Station House Four had lost his life while in pursuit of a killer stalking his neighbourhood. Three women were dead; single women from well-to-do families. The killer had made it look like a home invasion gone wrong.

It turned out that Joseph Collins lived in the same neighbourhood and that he was a bit of a Peeping Tom. But, his urges grew to be too much and he snapped when the first victim shot him down when he made an advance on her. However, catching him wasn't as simple as everyone thought it to be. He had left a mess of puzzles for the Toronto detective to solve, leading Murdoch from one suspect to another, including the Constable that had lost his life when Collins pulled out a gun and started shooting up the street when the Constabulary finally closed in on him.

Now, Collins was sentenced to hang for his crimes. Justice had been served. However, Murdoch started harbouring feelings of paranoia in the last few days since the trial. In the court room, when the judge had delivered the guilty verdict, Collins started yelling that he would have his revenge; that William Murdoch had not seen the last of him and that his time with the noose would soon be at hand.

Brackenreid had of course told Murdoch that it had just been the crazed ramblings of a doomed man. And, though Murdoch was not by any means a superstitious man, the threat had left him with a cold chill running down his spine. He had learned through his time with the Constabulary to take threats seriously, crazed or otherwise, for they always seemed to have an air of truth in them; especially if they involved his safety or the safety of someone he cared about.

Murdoch jumped when there was a knock at his office door. Higgins stood in the doorway; a somber look on his face. Murdoch instantly knew what had happened, even before the Constable spoke the words.

"You're needed, sir," Higgins said.

* * *

Murdoch walked up to the crime scene on shaky legs, though it wasn't from the bike ride. The lack of sleep was starting to get to him. He couldn't shake the nightmares; the feelings of rough rope pulling against his throat, strangling him. Though he would never perish. He awoke every night in a cold sweat and a crushing fear of what awaited him.

Constable George Crabtree met him halfway. He looked pale, like he was about to be sick. Murdoch knew from that look that it was a bad one.

"What have we, George?" Murdoch asked, his stomach lurching in anticipation; though he never showed his unease.

"Muriel Hart," Crabtree replied. "Twenty-three. A young lad found the body on his way down to the river to go fishing."

As the men walked up and when his eyes fell upon the young woman's mangled body, Murdoch crossed himself and forced himself to keep his breakfast down. The poor woman looked like she had been the victim of a savage animal attack. Her torso had been completely torn open. Murdoch looked over to see Crabtree off to the side, bent over and heaving. Murdoch didn't blame him. George often got a queasy stomach when it came to overly gruesome crime scenes. Experience had taught Murdoch to keep an iron stomach, though at this point he was finding that the iron was starting to melt and the bile was beginning to creep its way up his throat.

Swallowing down the bile, Murdoch walked over to the body where Julia Ogden was examining the body. She had a handkerchief over her mouth and nose and from the stench that wafted up from the body in the scorching heat, Murdoch knew why.

"Is it pointless to ask cause of death?" the detective asked.

Julia looked at him then at the body and then back up to him. Her expression said it all. Murdoch nodded.

"What could have caused this kind of damage?" he asked.

"A bear, perhaps?" Julia guessed, briefly removing the cloth to speak before placing it back into place.

Murdoch looked around at the scene. High grass, heavily wooded areas. A bear attack was a good possibility. Though, he knew from experience that he was never called in for an animal attack. Murdoch glanced down at the ground. He tilted his head to one side when he noticed something clenched in the victim's hand. He lifted up the victim's hand and carefully pulled out a piece of paper. Julia watched in curiosity. Murdoch opened the paper and read a crudely written note.

" _Three more will die. Then I'm coming for you."_

There was that chill again. Murdoch folded the paper up again. "Time of death?" he asked, his voice stiff.

"I would say three to four hours ago," Julia replied. She studied the detective's expression. "William, what's wrong?" she asked. "You look pale. Are you ill?"

Murdoch shook his head. "Just tired," he answered.

"Have you not been sleeping well?" Julia wanted to know, her doctor instincts kicking into overdrive.

Murdoch considered telling Julia about the nightmares, but he didn't want her to worry. Instead, he gave her a reassuring smile.

"I'm sleeping fine, Julia," he told her. His smile faltered. "I just keep thinking about the Constable we lost."

Julia nodded in understanding. "Yes. I know you all took it extremely hard," she said.

"But, he received justice. Just like this young woman will also receive justice," Murdoch said, getting to his feet.

Julia nodded to two Constables who were waiting nearby with a stretcher. She got to her feet as well. As the men took the body away, Julia turned to face Murdoch before she accompanied the body to the morgue.

"I'll have postmortem results for you as quickly as I can," she said.

"Thank you, Julia," Murdoch said, turning to leave.

"William," Julia replied, making him turn around again. "If you ever need to talk, you know my door is always open."

Murdoch gave her a grateful smile, but couldn't bring himself to say anything. He turned and walked away, leaving Julia to go back to the morgue with the corpse. Murdoch walked over to where Crabtree was finally getting control over his heaving. The Constable cleaned himself up, cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure.

"Sorry about that, Detective," Crabtree apologized.

"No need to apologize, George," Murdoch told him.

"It's just...after Constable Gates..."

Murdoch nodded. "Yes, George," he politely cut in. "I, myself, have been having a more difficult time coming to crime scenes since Constable Gates' death."

Crabtree looked at him, surprised. " _You_ , sir?" he asked. "You're always so composed. I find that hard to believe."

Murdoch knew Crabtree had said "composed", but with his sleep deprived mind, the detective could have sworn the Constable had said "cold".

 _Cold composure,_ Murdoch thought, grimly.

"Detective Murdoch?" Crabtree asked. "Are you feeling all right?"

Murdoch blinked back to reality, giving George a tight smile. "I'm fine, George," he said, knowing it was a blatant lie and he hoped that Crabtree wouldn't pick up on it.

George nodded. "Very good, sir," he said. "I'll begin taking statements."

"Thank you, George," Murdoch replied, inwardly sighing in relief that the Constable hadn't noticed his lie.

It seemed he had taken a liking to the concept of lying, lately. Murdoch knew it wasn't right to lie, but it was also no one's business what he was feeling. He knew George and Julia were being concerned friends, but this was something that Murdoch felt that he needed to figure out on his own. He wasn't going to hide behind other people and put them in the line of danger. He had never been the type of person to put his life before the life of someone else.

If someone was coming after him, Murdoch was going to face his assailant head on. He opened the paper and read the note again. It was unmistakably Joseph Collins' handwriting. Or was he just being paranoid? No, Murdoch was positive that the note was written by Joseph Collins. Folding up the note, Murdoch tucked the paper into his inside jacket pocket and headed back towards his bicycle. Maybe the ride back to the station would help clear his mind.

* * *

By the time Murdoch walked into Station House Four, his mind was racing and his stomach was so knotted he feared he was going to be sick. He had been threatened before, faced impossible odds and had always come out on top. What was it about this case that had him so nervous and uneasy? There was something in the way that Collins had yelled at him in the court room; the way the note had been worded.

Three more...then him.

Murdoch sat down at his desk and unfolded the note on top. He glanced up and looked through the open office door into Brackenreid's office. The inspector was sitting at his desk gulping down a glass of whiskey. Murdoch blinked in surprise at the thought that just passed through his mind.

Something was definitely wrong if he was considering asking the inspector for a drink.

* * *

Reviews are welcome, flames are not


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer** : see chapter one

* * *

Brackenreid stepped into Murdoch's office to find the detective staring at the blackboard. Murdoch was in his usual trance whenever he was faced with a problem. Brackenreid noticed the note taped to the corner of the blackboard.

"Three more?" the inspector asked, making Murdoch jump. "Three more what? Victims?"

"It appears so," Murdoch replied, his voice stiff.

Brackenreid glanced down at the detective's hands that were clutching the desk he was sitting on. They were shaking; visibly shaking.

"Murdoch," Brackenreid said carefully.

Murdoch slowly turned around to look at his boss. "Yes, sir?" he asked.

"You all right?" Brackenreid asked in concern.

"I'm fine," Murdoch replied.

Brackenreid narrowed his eyes. "Like hell you are," he said.

Murdoch frowned in confusion. "Sir?" he asked.

Brackenreid walked over to the detective. "Your hands are shaking," he pointed out. "This case is getting to you."

Murdoch rubbed his hands together to try to stop the shaking, but it just seemed to make it worse. He was unravelling. Brackenreid stepped around him so that he was looking at Murdoch's face. Concern shone in the inspector's eyes.

"Murdoch, what's wrong?" Brackenreid asked.

"Nothing," Murdoch insisted.

"Murdoch, I'm not just your boss, I'm your friend. And as your friend I can tell when something is off...and something is off," Brackenreid told him. "For starters, I've never seen you handle a case so intense where you actually start shaking."

"Sir-"

"And another thing," Brackenreid cut in, studying Murdoch's face. "When was the last time you've had a decent night's sleep?"

Murdoch squirmed under the scrutiny. It was one thing for Julia to point these things out to him, but his boss? It was unnerving, unnatural. He tried to come up with a logical explanation, but his sleep deprived brain didn't seem to be working properly. Besides, no one could lie to Thomas Brackenreid. Murdoch sighed in resignation and looked down at the floor.

"I haven't slept properly since Joseph Collins' trial," he confessed, his voice sounding small and ashamed.

Brackenreid straightened. Finally, the truth. "Is it about what he said to you?" he asked.

Murdoch nodded. "Yes, sir," he admitted. "Every night since the trial I've had the same recurring dream."

"What dream is that?" Brackenreid asked.

Murdoch swallowed nervously, fighting the urge to put a hand to his throat. "I'm dangling by a hangman's noose. Unable to breathe, unable to fight..." The shaking in his hands grew worse. "Unable to die."

Brackenreid could see the fear in Murdoch's eyes. It was an extremely rare occurrence to visibly see any kind of emotion on the detective's face. Murdoch was always so calm and collected, always in control of his emotions. There were times when Murdoch let his guard slip and his true emotions would shine through, but he was still always in control; never letting his emotions control him. However, it was clear now that Murdoch was losing the fight; the shaking in his hands was evidence of that.

"Have you considered talking to someone about these dreams?" Brackenreid asked.

"I don't think that's necessary," Murdoch replied.

"Bloody hell, Murdoch," Brackenreid grumbled. "Everyone needs help sometimes. You included."

He reached into his back pants pocket and took out his wallet. He pulled out a card and held it out. Murdoch reached out and took the card. The name of a psychiatrist was printed on the front. Murdoch looked up at Brackenreid and the inspector could hear the argument even before Murdoch said anything.

"Sir, I really don't think that-"

"You're going," Brackenreid cut in. "That's an order. If I find out you missed even one session, I'm taking you off this case."

Murdoch began to panic. "But, Inspector-"

"No buts, Murdoch," Brackenreid interrupted, sternly. "You're going to see that shrink. And if I find you've been ignoring his orders, I'm putting you on unpaid leave. Do I make myself clear?"

Murdoch sighed. "Yes, sir," he said.

* * *

Murdoch stood in front of the office building of the psychiatrist that Brackenreid had told him to see. He couldn't bring himself to open the door and step inside. A part of him wanted to walk away and go back to the Station House, but the other part, his detective side, reminded him that the inspector would immediately send him home for disobeying a direct order. The detective sighed softly, not knowing what to do.

"William?" a familiar female voice asked.

Murdoch turned to see Julia walk up. He frowned. "Julia? What are you doing here?"

"I came by the station to deliver my findings, but the inspector told me that you were going to see doctor Simmons," Julia replied. "So, I decided to come by and give you my findings."

Murdoch gave her a skeptical look. "So, the inspector didn't send you here to make sure I went to my appointment?" he asked.

The look that came over Julia's face was the same as a child who had been caught in a lie. "Well..." she stammered. "There was that, too."

Murdoch nodded. "Very well, doctor. You may tell me what you found while I wait," he said.

He opened the door and Julia walked inside first before Murdoch followed her inside. They walked up to the reception desk where a young woman was typing away at a type writer. The woman looked up when she heard them approaching. She smiled warmly.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Detective William Murdoch here to see doctor Simmons," Murdoch said.

The woman nodded. "Have a seat. I'll tell him you're here."

Murdoch and Julia sat down in the waiting area as the woman got up from the desk and went into an inner office. Julia glanced down at Murdoch's hands and noticed they were shaking as he gripped the edge of his hat.

"What did you find?" Murdoch asked.

"Because of the extent of the damage, it was difficult to determine the weapon," Julia began. "But, I was able to determine that it was caused by something large and sharp. Possibly a butcher knife."

Murdoch nodded. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Disturbingly, yes," Julia answered quietly. "She was awake when she was being cut open. Whoever killed her took his time. He wanted her to suffer."

The dream flashed through Murdoch's thoughts and he jumped when his name was called. He looked up to see the doctor standing in the doorway to the inner office. Julia patted his leg and smiled. Murdoch smiled back, though his was a bit forced. He got to his feet and followed the doctor into the office. Simmons closed the office door.

"Have a seat, Detective," he said.

Murdoch sat down in one of the chairs as Simmons took the second chair. Simmons picked up a pad of paper and a pen, placing the pad in his lap.

"Now, Detective. What can I help you with?" the doctor asked.

"Inspector Brackenreid thinks I need to talk to someone about a dream I've been having," Murdoch replied.

"And do you?" Simmons asked. His eyes moved down towards Murdoch's hands. "Is that recent?" he asked, pointing at the detective's hands.

Murdoch looked down to see his hands shaking uncontrollably. "Maybe I do," he answered in defeat.

"Tell me about this dream," Simmons instructed.

Murdoch swallowed nervously. "I'm dangling by a hangman's noose," he started. "The rope is too short. No one moves to help me; they just stand there. I can't move, I can't breathe." A cold chill shot down his spine. "I can't die."

"And, what brought on this dream?" Simmons enquired.

"A few days ago, at the trial of Joseph Collins, he yelled that my time with the noose was soon at hand," Murdoch explained. "That I haven't seen the last of him."

Simmons wrote down some notes, nodding in thought. "Is this the first time this has happened?" he asked.

"I have been threatened many times," Murdoch explained. "But, there was something about this threat that shook me. But, I don't know why that is."

"Is there anything else?" Simmons asked.

Murdoch swallowed, debating whether to him about the note or not. The flood gates were already opened, might as well let all the water out. "At a crime scene this morning, I found a note on the victim that said that three more people would die before the killer came after me," he answered.

Simmons nodded again, taking down more notes. Murdoch briefly wondered what the doctor was writing. His stomach felt as though he had swallowed several fluttering butterflies. Although, the shaking in his hands had subsided. Maybe talking to someone about these dreams was a good thing.

"Do you think that maybe you do know why this case is difficult for you?" Simmons asked. "Subconsciously, that is?"

Murdoch frowned slightly as he thought back to the trial. The scene played through his memories as if it had just been the day before. The court room was full of the victim's families, as well as some of the Constables from Station House Four, including Murdoch himself, Brackenreid, Higgins and Crabtree. The testimonies had been heard and it was now up to the judge to deliver the verdict. Murdoch remembered looking over at Collins' family on the other side of the court room. He locked gazes with Noah Collins, the son of the killer.

Murdoch recalled the look of pure hatred in the young man's eyes. The look grew even worse when the judge declared, "Guilty". Joseph Collins began to yell, but Murdoch's eyes never left Noah Collins. The young man gave him a murderous look before he opened his mouth. Murdoch had thought that the noose threat had come from Joseph, but, it had actually come from his son.

"Detective?" Simmons asked.

Murdoch blinked back to reality. "I think I know the reason why I've been so shaken," he said.

* * *

"Noah Collins?" Julia asked.

"Yes. I thought the threat had come from Joseph Collins originally," Murdoch explained as they walked down the street towards Station House Four. "But, Noah Collins sounded so much like his father I got the two confused."

Julia hummed thoughtfully. "That's as good a reason as any, I suppose," she said. "But, that doesn't sound like you to get things mixed up."

"I suppose I was more startled than I cared to admit," Murdoch speculated.

"Well, at least now you know who to look for," Julia said.

Murdoch nodded. However, he got the feeling that Noah Collins was going to be the one to find him.

* * *

Reviews are welcome, flames are not


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** : Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed thus far. The next chapter will finally introduce the detective from the future.

 **Disclaimer** : see chapter one

* * *

Murdoch walked into the station and immediately went over to Crabtree's desk. The Constable was writing up a report when Murdoch appeared. Crabtree glanced up from his work, his expression expectant. He knew just by the look on the detective's face that the report was going to be put on hold for a while as a task was in his very near future.

"George, I need you to pull everything we have on Noah Collins," Murdoch instructed.

"The son?" Crabtree asked. "Why?"

"It's for the case," Murdoch told him.

With that, he walked away and disappeared into his office. Shrugging, Crabtree got up from his desk and headed to the filing room. Seeing Murdoch walk into his office, Brackenreid took the opportunity to corner the detective. He walked into Murdoch's office and leaned against the doorframe.

"I trust you had a grand chat with the shrink?" Brackenreid asked.

Murdoch looked up from placing his hat on the coat rack. "Yes, sir, I did. It was quite informative," he said.

"Was it now?" Brackenreid said.

"Yes. I believe I know who to be searching for," Murdoch replied.

"And who might that poor soul be?" Brackenreid wanted to know.

"Noah Collins."

Brackenreid frowned. "The son? What makes you think he has anything to do with this case?"

"Upon further reflection, I remembered that it was the son who made that hangman threat, not his father," Murdoch explained.

"Bloody hell," Brackenreid said. "I knew that bugger had a few screws loose." He nodded. "Carry on," Brackenreid instructed before walking out of the office.

It didn't take the Constable long to locate the Noah Collins file. Crabtree skimmed over the reports as he made his way back out to Murdoch's office. Nothing seemed to jump out at him; but then again, Murdoch often found things that others missed. It was one of the many mysteries of the detective.

Crabtree knocked on the doorframe of Murdoch's office and was immediately granted entry. He walked up to Murdoch who was staring intently at the blackboard. Crabtree's eyes fell on the note stuck to the corner of the board. It sent a chill shooting down the Constable's spine. Crabtree held out the file to Murdoch.

"There's nothing out of the ordinary, sir," he said as Murdoch took the file. "Just petty theft."

Murdoch read over the notes in the file. He turned to the last page and his eyes instantly fell on the charges of uttering threats to a police officer and threatening an officer with a weapon.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, George," Murdoch said. "I think we need to have a talk with Mr. Collins."

* * *

The park was peaceful and quiet in the late afternoon. Families were on their way home for supper after a busy day of fun and games. Amelia Easton was taking the long way home from work, trying to clear her thoughts. She had had words with her employer concerning her work. She was a teller at the Bank of Toronto and he had accused her of stealing. Of course, she denied it and he gave her a warning. The next time she wouldn't be so lucky.

Amelia wiped a stray tear from her cheek with her gloved hand and tried to fight back the tears that threatened to overflow. She looked up at the trees as she walked down the path. The sun filtered through the leaves; sunbeams dancing as though they were alive. She loved nature; loved the complexity of it. One species couldn't survive without another and all species wouldn't be able to survive without the sun and rain.

Amelia was brought out her thoughts when she heard a noise coming from the trees bordering the path. However, she just passed it off as animals and continued on her way. However, the noise sounded again and when she turned to look, Amelia was met by a gloved hand and a handkerchief. She detected a sickly scent before everything was plunged into darkness.

* * *

No matter how many times he got the call, Murdoch would never get used to the sight of a dead body. But, this...This was just brazen. From Julia's first impressions the poor girl had been beaten, strangled and who knew what else, and left draped over the steps of Station House Four with nothing but her under garments on. Death had occurred between midnight and four in the morning. Murdoch crossed himself with a heavy sigh. A crowd had gathered and Constables were trying to keep them back. Reporters were calling out for comments from the detective, but Murdoch never acknowledged them. He looked up when Brackenreid walked up.

"Bloody hell," Brackenreid growled. "What sick, brazen bastard does this to the Constabulary?"

"I believe it to be the work of Noah Collins," Murdoch replied.

"I hope it is," Brackenreid said. "So I can put the noose around his neck myself. No one taunts us like this and gets away with it."

With that said, he stalked off. Just then, Crabtree walked up after taking statements from witnesses, or lack thereof from the look on his face.

"What have you, George?" Murdoch asked.

"It's what I _don't_ have," Crabtree told him. "No one saw anything, no one _heard_ anything. It's like she just suddenly appeared on the station steps."

"Who found the body?" Murdoch asked.

Crabtree turned and pointed over to a very shaken looking Higgins. The Constabulary was no stranger to murder victims, but this was the first time one had ever been dumped on a Station House's front step. This hit too close to home; it was message and Murdoch received it loud and clear. The first of three victims was dead. Two more and then it was Murdoch's turn.

Murdoch turned to look at Crabtree. "We need to find Collins," he said. "Before he kills again."

Crabtree looked into the crowd. "Well, sir, we shan't have to look very far," he replied.

"Why do you say that?" Murdoch asked.

Crabtree pointed at someone. "Because he's right there."

Murdoch followed Crabtree's indication and spotted Noah Collins in the crowd. Knowing that he was spotted, Collins took off. Murdoch and Crabtree instantly gave chase, yelling at Collins to stop. If it wasn't for the adrenaline pumping through his veins, Murdoch was certain he would have dropped from the heat exhaustion that rapidly began to set in. He could hear Crabtree huffing right behind him.

Collins led them through crowded streets, pushing people to the side and tipping over whatever was in his path, trying to slow down the detective and Constable. However, Murdoch and Crabtree never missed a beat. Collins ducked into an alleyway, thinking that he would have a better chance at losing the cops. However, when Murdoch and Crabtree rounded the corner, they stopped dead. It was a dead end alley...so where was Collins? Gasping for breath, Murdoch looked around in puzzlement.

"It's a dead end," Crabtree rasped out.

"I can see that, George," Murdoch told him.

"So, where's Collins?" Crabtree asked, looking at the detective.

Murdoch met Crabtree's bewildered gaze before turning back to look at the brick wall ten feet in front of him.

"I don't know, George," Murdoch answered. "I don't know."

* * *

Reviews are welcome, flames are not


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N** : Sorry for such a long delay. I didn't mean to keep this story hanging. I hope you can forgive me.

 **Disclaimer** : see chapter one

* * *

Toronto, Ontario 2015

 **"Detective Solves Two-Year-Old Cold Case. Tom Braxton Sentenced To Life In Prison For First Degree Murder"** screamed the front page headline. The case had been the bane of the Toronto PD's existence. It had been a murder case that had gone unsolved for two years, even with the advanced forensics that were available. No body, no crime and a murderer walked free. That is, until, Detective Alucard Raven got his hands on the case file. Though he was still new to Homicide, he was making a name for himself both inside and outside the precinct.

He was the modern day Sherlock Holmes or so the papers liked to call him. However, no one knew how Alucard was able to solve year old cold cases. The joke floating around the squad room was that he was psychic. Though, it wasn't so much psychic ability as it was telepathy. Alucard harboured a secret that only a select few knew about. Twelve others; all with the same secret as himself. He was a creature of mythology; existing only in books and ancient scrolls. There was only one human who knew his true nature; his Homicide partner, Scott Archer.

Alucard knew using his telepathy was cheating, but sometimes it was the only way to get a confession. He called it "Using the Tell Tale Heart". He focused on the memory of the murder and would enhance it. Ninety percent of the time it worked, sending killers into sniveling balls begging and pleading for forgiveness; the other ten percent just made the killer relive the adrenaline high. It showed Alucard that there were a lot of sick, twisted people in the world.

"How do ya do it, Raven?" someone asked.

"Do what?" Alucard asked back, his face buried in the morning paper.

The person on the other side hit the back of his hand against the front page causing Alucard to growl in annoyance under his breath.

"Solving two year old cold cases? You're making the rest of us look bad," the officer said.

"Just doin' my job, Hodgens," Alucard stated.

"So, what's your secret?" Hodgens asked.

Alucard flipped the paper down, his amber eyes glaring. He opened his mouth to say something, however before he got the chance, his cell phone started to ring. Alucard folded the paper up and placed it on his desk, which Hodgens took the liberty to confiscate and started reading. Alucard picked up his cell phone, hit "talk" and put the phone to his ear.

"Raven," he answered. "Hey, Chess. What's up?"

"I've got someone down here at the shelter that I think might interest you," Alias said.

"What makes you say that?" Alucard asked.

"He keeps saying he killed someone," Alias replied.

"On my way," Alucard said.

He hung up, grabbed his jacket and left the precinct. He jumped into his black, plain wrap sedan and headed off for the homeless shelter where Alias volunteered. When he arrived, Alucard parked out front, locked the doors and headed inside. He found Alias in the back with a man that looked like he had one too many drinks. He was tipsy, twitchy and was muttering incoherently. Alias looked up when Alucard walked up.

"What took ya?" he asked.

"Sorry some of us have to take the traditional mode of transportation," Alucard said.

Alias shrugged. "Anyway, you're here, so this guy's all yours."

Alucard took a hold of the man's arm and guided him out to the waiting car. The look that came over the man's face when they stepped outside gave Alucard the impression that the guy had never seen a car before. The detective sized the man up. He wore a three piece suit that looked like it had seen the better days of the late 1800's. Alucard unlocked the car, opened the back door and helped the man get in. When the man was situated, Alucard went around to the driver's side door and climbed in behind the wheel.

"W-what is this th-thing?" the man stammered.

"It's called a car," Alucard replied as he drove through heavy traffic on the way back to the precinct. "Ever see a car?"

The man shook his head. "W-we h-have car-carriages," he replied.

Alucard frowned, his suspicions deepening. "Where are you from?" he asked.

"Tor-Toronto," the man answered.

"What year?" Alucard wanted to know.

"1895," the man told him.

 _Technus,_ Alucard thought. "Well, we'll get this all figured out, Mr...?"

"Co-Collins. Noah Collins," the man replied.

"Mr. Collins," Alucard said.

He was going to need to have a chat with the tech support about this. However, right now his main focus was on this guy's admittance that he murdered someone. Alucard pulled up to the precinct and turned off the car. He got out, went around to the back and pulled Collins out. More than one person stared as Alucard guided the man to the interrogation room. He had Collins sit down at one end of the table while he took the other seat. Alucard picked up on Scott's thought pattern from the other side of the one way mirror.

"So, Mr. Collins," Alucard started. "Tell me about this murder you claim to have committed. Where did it take place?"

Collins swallowed nervously, looking around like a deer in headlights; eyes as wide as saucers. Alucard tilted his head to one side.

"Mr. Collins?" he asked. "Where did the murder take place?"

"Warehouse. By the docks," Collins replied.

Alucard hummed. No calls had come in about a murder by the docks. He poked around Collins' mind. The man's thoughts were wild, unfocused. However, Alucard did manage to gather that the man was indeed from 1895.

 _The portal must be acting up again,_ Alucard thought. "Who was the victim?" he asked.

"Dunno," Collins answered. "Some girl."

"Why did you kill her?" Alucard prodded.

Collins looked down at his hands which were shaking like a leaf in the wind. "He needs to pay," he whispered.

Alucard frowned in confusion. "Who needs to pay?"

Collins met his gaze, his eyes murderous. "Murdoch," he spat out venomously.

"Murdoch?" Alucard repeated.

"Detective William Murdoch," Collins clarified.

Alucard nodded. _Portal's acting up big time,_ he mused. "Why does he need to pay? What did he do?"

"He murdered my father," Collins snarled. "Three will die and then him."

"And this girl was the first?" Alucard guessed.

Collins nodded. "Murdoch won't escape. Not this time. He won't get away."

"Wait one moment," Alucard said.

He got up from the table and left the room. Scott met him outside. Alucard gave him an exasperated look.

"Is he telling the truth?" Scott asked. "Or is he just delusional?"

"His thoughts confirm his story," Alucard replied. "He's telling the truth. Though, I have no clue who this William Murdoch is."

"Maybe Tech can shed some light on the matter," Scott suggested.

Alucard nodded in agreement. "He'd better," he said. "In the meantime, see if you can get an escort to take Collins to the hospital."

"Why?" Scott asked. "I thought you said he was telling the truth."

"What he perceives to be true," Alucard corrected himself. "He may be having a mental break and just making the entire thing up."

He began walking away. "So, how do you explain his attire?" Scott called after him.

"Obsession with the 1800's," Alucard called over his shoulder.

He headed out of the precinct and made the short trip around the corner to the apartment building where Technus lived. He rode the elevator to the penthouse. When the doors opened, Alucard walked up to the apartment door, placed his hand on the scanner to unlock the door and waited for the lock to disengage. Alucard opened the door and walked into the spacious apartment.

"Tech?" Alucard called out.

"Be right there," came the answer.

A minute later a young man with light brown hair, brown eyes and a goatee appeared from around the corner leading to the bedrooms. He wore a pair of jeans that looked like they had seen better days and he held a white t-shirt in his hand.

"What can I do for ya, Al?" Technus asked, heading for the kitchen.

Alucard watched his friend, looking at the glowing motherboard tattoo that took up his entire back. "I have a question," Alucard said. "About the portal."

Technus pulled on the shirt as he got himself a cup of coffee. "What about the portal?" he asked.

"Have you picked up any fluctuations recently?" Alucard wanted to know.

Technus thought for a moment. "There was a slight hiccup earlier today. But, it smoothed itself out without too much trouble," he explained. "Why do you ask?"

"We have a temporal problem," Alucard replied.

Technus appeared again. "What temporal problem?"

"I have a guy on his way to the psych ward from 1895," Alucard told him.

Technus frowned. "I didn't think the portal was acting up," he said.

"Well...it did. And, now I have a suspect to a murder case that took place one hundred and twenty years ago," Alucard stated.

Technus hummed in thought. "Maybe it's more dimensional than temporal," he mused as he walked over to the control table for the portal. "What's the guy's name?"

"Noah Collins," Alucard answered.

Technus typed something in on the holographic keyboard. "And the victim's name?"

"He didn't say. But, one name he kept repeating was Murdoch," Alucard explained.

Technus typed in the name. The computer beeped. "He's from a dimension parallel to ours; since there's no William Murdoch in our history," he replied. "He's still from Earth, with a similar history to ours, but..."

"Let me guess...we don't exist," Alucard finished. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "So, what would happen if this Murdoch guy met his fate too soon?"

"The consequences could range anywhere from nothing to a total dimensional collapse," Technus answered.

Alucard shook his head. "You're making my brain hurt," he said. "This is why I never dimension jump."

"Well, from what the computer says, this other world depends on William Murdoch," Technus explained. "So, if something were to happen to him...it could be deadly for the people of that world."

Alucard nodded as he made his way towards the door. "Thanks, Tech."

"No problem, Al," Technus said.

In a few short seconds, the detective was back on the ground floor of the apartment building. Alucard jogged across the street away from Technus' building on his way back to the precinct. He was almost to the station when someone ran into him. It wasn't hard to miss the old fashioned clothing. That only meant one thing.

"Hey!" Alucard yelled.

He bolted after the late century man, taking off down the street. Meanwhile, Technus looked up from his work on the portal when he heard a beeping sound. He turned to see the workbench computer fully alive. Letters ran rapidly across the holographic screen until the words: Detective William Murdoch flashed on the screen.

"Oh no," Technus said in horror. "No, no, no!"

"Stop! Police!" Alucard shouted.

However, the man never stopped running. Technus hurried over to the computer.

"Who is it? Who's the chosen one?" he asked.

Letters again ran rapidly across the screen. Technus' heart sank when Alucard's name flashed on the screen. The man from the past rounded a corner. Alucard didn't waste a minute and followed. However, when he rounded the corner, Alucard found himself in a completely different setting. The city had changed. Instead of cars, horse drawn carriages dominated the streets. Men wore three piece suits and top hats, women wore long dresses and fancy hats.

Alucard took a step back; his foot hitting on something. He looked down to see the man he had been chasing lying lifeless on the ground. Alucard backed away from the body, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the sounds of a gun being cocked.

"Police! Stop!" someone shouted.

* * *

The future meets the past...finally.

Reviews are welcome, flames are not


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N** : I'm sorry for the long delay. I didn't mean to keep this story hanging. I hope you can forgive me.

 **Disclaimer** : see chapter one

* * *

Alucard sat quietly in the interview room, waiting patiently for his interrogator to arrive. Though he appeared calm on the outside, he was fuming on the inside. That damn portal had sent him to the land that time forgot. And now he was stuck here until Technus got a lock on his location and sent him a portal back home. However, there was no telling how long that was going to take.

He drummed his fingers against the long oak table as his eyes gazed around the room. There wasn't much privacy; he could clearly see and hear everything that was happening on the other side of the left wall. Alucard glanced up when the door opened and a man of medium height and build, with black hair and dark eyes entered the room. Alucard didn't have to be telepathic to know that this man had some issues. Dark circles ran under his eyes and every now and then his hands would start shaking.

 _This guy must be Murdoch,_ Alucard thought to himself.

"You have some explaining to do," the man stated.

Alucard nodded, running his fingers through his own dark hair. "Yeah. I probably do," he said. "Although, I never touched that guy."

"You were discovered standing over the body," the man pointed out.

"Doesn't mean I killed him," Alucard countered.

The man's hands began shaking again; and though he tried to hide it, it was painfully obvious to Alucard.

"If you don't mind my asking, what year is this?" Alucard asked.

The man frowned slightly. "1895," he replied.

"Fantastic," Alucard said dully.

The man sat down and opened a small notebook. "So, what were you doing in that alley if not committing a crime?" he asked.

Alucard tapped his fingers against the table, trying to come up with some plausible story. Sadly, being a detective himself, Alucard knew that this man had heard every crazy scenario in his career.

"Well?" the man asked.

Alucard shrugged. "I was taking a walk," he finally replied.

"In an alley?" the man said suspiciously.

"Some people take walks in the park, I take walks in alleyways," Alucard told him. "I'm an alley cat. Sue me."

The man frowned. "Your mannerisms are quite peculiar," he stated. "Your speech in particular."

"Not the language of the 1890's," Alucard agreed.

Outside, Brackenreid and Crabtree were watching the interview. "So, what's his story, then?" the inspector asked, nodding at Alucard.

"We found him standing over Noah Collins' body, but he claims he never killed the man," Crabtree explained. "Doctor Ogden stated that Collins felt bloated...whatever that means. But, that's not the strange part."

Brackenreid gave him a look. "There's a strange part?" he asked.

"He had these on his person," Crabtree said, holding up three strange objects.

One looked like a gun, but it wasn't like any gun Brackenreid had ever seen. Another looked like a badge and he had no idea what the other rectangular device was.

"Well, then. Let's go ask him, shall we?" Brackenreid said, taking the objects.

Murdoch and Alucard turned when the interview room door opened and the inspector walked in. He closed the door, stepped to the table and placed three objects on the table top.

"Care to tell us what these are?" Brackenreid asked.

"I believe those are what you call personal effects," Alucard replied.

"Don't get cute," Brackenreid growled. Alucard smiled. "Why'd you kill Collins?" Brackenreid asked.

"Why would I kill Collins?" Alucard asked back.

"You sayin' you didn't kill him?" Brackenreid said.

"I'm not saying I did," Alucard replied. "What motive would I have? I don't even know the guy."

"Then what were you doin' standin' over the body?" Brackenreid wanted to know.

"Ever heard of finding the body?" Alucard replied with another question.

"Think you're funny?" the inspector said.

Alucard studied him for a moment. "You need to laugh more, sir," he replied. "It was something I had to learn how to do; otherwise the job eats away at you."

"And what job might that be?" Murdoch asked.

Alucard looked from the inspector to the detective. He slowly got to his feet. "Allow me to properly introduce myself. Detective Alucard Raven of the Toronto Police Department. At your service," he said.

The two men looked surprised, but they managed to introduce themselves.

"Inspector Thomas Brackenreid."

"Detective William Murdoch. What's a police department?" Murdoch asked.

Alucard quickly swept through the inspector's and detective's thoughts. "You call it the Constabulary, I believe," he said.

"You're a copper?" Brackenreid said in disbelief.

Alucard nodded. "That I am, Inspector," he confirmed.

"And what station house are you associated with?" Murdoch questioned.

Alucard fell silent before speaking. "I'm with the Fourth Precinct. Station House Four," he answered.

"One of ours?" Brackenreid asked.

He looked at Alucard's attire. Alucard glanced down at his leather jacket, white t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. Clearly not the clothes of the 1890's.

"So, what are these?" Murdoch asked, picking up the badge.

"My gun and badge," Alucard told him. "And my cell phone. But, that's dead in the water."

"Cell phone?" the inspector and detective asked in unison.

Alucard scratched the back of his head. "It's a really long story, and I doubt very much that you'll believe me."

"Try us," Brackenreid dared.

Alucard glanced between the inspector and the detective. He took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. This was the hard part; getting them to believe that he was from the future. The worst thing they could do was lock him up in the asylum.

"I'm from the future," Alucard finally answered, speaking slowly.

Brackenreid and Murdoch looked at each other before glancing back at Alucard. He seemed to be telling the truth, but it was impossible. Time travel just wasn't plausible. However, they couldn't explain away his strange clothing. Maybe he _was_ telling the truth. Though, it still didn't explain Collins' death. Their faces must have been giving away their thoughts because Alucard spoke again.

"Collins disappeared from this time, yes?" he asked.

Brackenreid looked at him. "How did you know?"

"Because he ended up in my time," Alucard answered.

"Which is when?" Murdoch questioned.

"2015," Alucard told him.

Brackenreid looked dumbfounded. "A year that high exists?"

Alucard nodded. "People thought the world was going to end when it hit the year 2000. Then again in 2012." He shrugged. "But, we're still going strong."

Murdoch got up from the chair. "Sir, can I see you outside for a moment?" he whispered to the inspector.

Alucard sat back down as Murdoch and Brackenreid left the room. He leaned back in the chair and watched the exchange through the window. They really needed a two-way mirror.

"Is it true, sir?" Crabtree asked. "Is he really from the future?"

"That remains to be decided, George," Murdoch replied.

"But, sir, his clothes. His speech. He's clearly not from this time," Crabtree pointed out. "Maybe in his time, time travel is possible."

Brackenreid looked at the Constable. "Don't you have work to do, Crabtree?" he asked.

"No, sir," Crabtree answered.

"Well, then, find some," Brackenreid ordered.

Crabtree sighed, but walked off to his desk, nonetheless. Brackenreid turned back to Murdoch who was looking at Alucard through the interview room window.

"What are you thinking, Murdoch?" the inspector asked.

"George may have a point, sir," Murdoch stated. "We don't know if he's telling the truth or not. We just have to assume that he is. Arthur Conan Doyle once wrote, 'When you have eliminated all that which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth'."

"So you think future boy is really from the future," Brackenreid said.

Murdoch shrugged. "At the very least, I don't think he killed Collins."

Brackenreid glanced through the window. Alucard waved at him. "I still don't trust the guy," the inspector declared.

"Unfortunately, sir, we may not have much of a choice but to trust him," Murdoch told him. "Right now, he's our only lead."

Brackenreid growled under his breath. "Fine. But, he's your responsibility," he said.

"Yes, Inspector," Murdoch agreed.

Brackenreid walked away as Murdoch went back into the interview room. Alucard looked up at him expectantly.

"You're free to go, Detective Raven," Murdoch said. "Just don't leave town."

"If it's all the same to you, Detective Murdoch, I think I'll stick around the Station House," Alucard replied. "I'm interested to see why Collins thought you were so evil that you needed to meet an untimely end."

Murdoch felt a lance of fear pierce his chest at Alucard's words; but he didn't show it. "As you wish," he said.

Alucard stood up. "And who knows? Maybe we'll be able to help each other out."

Murdoch nodded as he looked at the other detective's clothing. "Though, if you're going to stay; you're going to need some proper clothing," he pointed out.

* * *

Julia glanced up from her paperwork when she heard the front door of the morgue open and close. She smiled when she saw Murdoch, but her smile dropped when she saw Alucard. Seeing her startled expression, Murdoch quickly explained.

"It's all right, Julia. He's now working with us," he said.

Julia relaxed and gave Alucard a warm smile. "Welcome to Toronto," she greeted.

"Doctor Julia Ogden, Detective Alucard Raven," Murdoch introduced.

Julia extended her hand. Alucard took it and gave it a quick kiss. Julia felt her face burn slightly.

"You must have fought hard to be here. I dare say it couldn't have been easy for you," Alucard said.

Julia smiled. "No, it wasn't," she agreed.

Murdoch fought to keep from clearing his throat. "Detective Raven is consulting with us on the Noah Collins case," he said.

"I see," Julia said. Her eyes fell on Alucard's clothes. "Though, I have to ask; where did you get your attire, Detective?"

"2015," Alucard answered.

Julia looked astounded. "A year like that exists?" she asked.

"The Inspector asked the same question. And, yes, it does," Alucard answered.

"We were wondering if you would help us get Detective Raven some time appropriate clothing," Murdoch explained.

"I would be delighted," Julia replied. "Let me get my hat."

She moved off to the far end of the room and grabbed her jacket and hat. When she was ready, they headed outside and began the trek to the market. Of course, as they walked, Alucard drew a lot of attention from the other pedestrians.

"Here we are," Julia said as they came upon a tailor's shop.

Alucard opened the door and allowed Julia and Murdoch to step inside first. Looking around at the suits, Alucard was suddenly reminded that he didn't have time appropriate currency, either. He grabbed Murdoch's arm and pulled him aside.

"I'm in a bit of hot water," Alucard whispered.

"Why is that?" Murdoch asked in a hushed voice.

Alucard pulled out his wallet and opened it. Murdoch frowned when he saw the strangely colored pieces of paper inside.

"What is that?" Murdoch asked.

"Money," Alucard replied slowly.

"That's not money," Murdoch told him.

"In my time it is," Alucard answered. "So, you see my problem. Where in this time can I exchange 2015 currency for 1895 currency?"

Murdoch held up his hands. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it," he assured him.

Alucard was instructed to stand on a short step while the tailor measured him. When the measuring was done, the tailor walked off and picked out a suit; bringing it back for Alucard to try on. Alucard went out in the back room and changed. When the suit was on he immediately began to feel the heat. How did men go around dressed in three piece suits and not faint from heat exhaustion? Alucard walked out and Julia clapped, her face brightening into a smile.

"Detective Raven, you and Detective Murdoch could pass for twin brothers," she commented.

The two detectives looked at each other, not sure if that was meant as an insult or a compliment. Murdoch took out his wallet and pulled out a couple of paper bills. He passed them to the tailor, who thanked the detective and walked off.

"If you want, I could hold on to your other clothes for you," Julia offered.

"That would be a great help, Doctor, thank you," Alucard said, passing her his old clothes.

"Now that we have that out of the way, I think it's time we got back to work," Julia said.

They left the tailor's and headed back to the Station House and morgue. When they arrived back at Station House Four, Alucard took a minute to look around at the busy street. He let the atmosphere of the city sink in. This city was still his home, yet it wasn't at the same time. Alucard hoped that Technus would be able to find him; and he also hoped that he would be able to keep Murdoch from meeting his maker before Technus found him.

With that thought, Alucard opened the door of the Station House and stepped inside. His work had just begun.

* * *

Reviews are welcome, flames are not


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N** : Sorry I've been away for so long. I didn't mean to leave this story hanging. Life just kinda got in the way of everything. I hope you can forgive me.

 **Disclaimer** : see chapter one

* * *

The small office was filled with science equipment, books and a large blackboard. Murdoch sat at his desk in front of the window, reading over a case file. Alucard walked around the office, taking everything in. His gaze fell on the blackboard and the note taped to the corner. Alucard walked over to the board and read the note. So, Collins hadn't been crazy, after all.

Outside in the bullpen, Crabtree, Higgins and Jackson were watching the two detectives. While Higgins and Jackson studied the new detective with distrust and unease, Crabtree looked at him with excitement and intrigue.

"I don't trust him," Higgins commented quietly.

"Neither do I," Jackson stated.

George looked at his colleagues with surprise. "Why not?" he asked. "What's not to trust?"

"We know nothing about this guy," Higgins whispered matter-of-factly.

"He's an officer of the law," Crabtree said. "He's one of us."

"He says he is," Jackson replied. "But, how do we know he's telling the truth?"

George looked up at him. "Are you suggesting that Detective Raven is deceiving us?" he asked.

"What if he is, George?" Higgins questioned. "What if he really did kill Collins and is just saying that he's a detective to get close to the station?"

"And to get close to Detective Murdoch," Jackson added.

"Unbelievable. Both of you," Crabtree chastised.

Alucard looked over his shoulder and through the wall of windows out into the bullpen. It wasn't hard to not overhear what the Constables were saying. He didn't blame them for being suspicious. He had arrived under suspicious circumstances; they had every right to suspect him of treachery. Alucard just had to prove to them that his intentions were pure and that he was here to help. Although, he had the feeling that it wasn't going to be easy.

Alucard turned to look at Murdoch. "Did you get the post-mortem results back from Dr. Ogden?" he asked.

"Yes," Murdoch answered. "She said Collins died from massive internal bleeding. Every one of his organs had ruptured."

Alucard hummed in thought, crossing his arms. "Probably from passing through the portal more than once in such a short time," he thought out loud.

Murdoch frowned in confusion. "Portal?" he echoed.

"I call it a portal, but it's more like a sudden displacement," Alucard explained. "One minute you're running down the streets of twenty-first century Toronto, the next you're tripping over dead bodies in an alleyway in the 1890's. No warning, no nothing. Just...poof."

"So, you really didn't kill Collins," Murdoch said.

Alucard shook his head. "I was trying to stop him. He had confessed to killing someone from 1895 and kept muttering how a Detective William Murdoch had to pay for killing his father. I thought he was having a mental break, so I ordered him to be taken to the hospital for a psych evaluation. But, he escaped police custody and took off. I gave chase, turned a corner and next thing I knew I was here; discovering Collins' dead body behind me." Alucard glanced back out at Crabtree, Jackson and Higgins. "That's when your Constables showed up. And you know the rest."

"Indeed," Murdoch agreed. He frowned slightly. "Detective Raven, if you don't mind my asking, why weren't _you_ affected by this...sudden displacement?"

Alucard shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Regardless of the era, no one took the news of his true nature well. They either thought he was insane or the devil. Alucard didn't know enough about Murdoch to trust him with that secret; and he wondered if he ever would. He was stuck in this time period, so he would have to make allies. Though, Murdoch couldn't be trusted with his most well kept secret, Alucard didn't see the harm in telling him some form of the truth.

"This isn't my first time being displaced," the future detective replied.

"It's not?" Murdoch asked, sounding surprised. "This is a common occurrence in the future?"

Alucard took a deep breath. "I'm part of a...research team," he explained.

"Oh?" Murdoch said. "Researching what?"

"Sudden displacements," Alucard answered slowly.

Murdoch's eyes widened. "And you've succeeded?"

Alucard nodded. "We have." He could see the wonder and excitement in Murdoch's eyes.

"What was it like? The first time?" Murdoch wanted to know.

"It was strange, to say the least," Alucard told him.

"Did you travel back in time?" Murdoch pressed.

"You could say that," Alucard replied.

The truth was that he hadn't been sent to any time period, but to a completely different dimension. The portal didn't just send people backwards and forwards in time, it also sent people to other worlds. Technus had somehow managed to build the very first multi-dimensional transporter...and it was a pain in the ass. Being plucked from the comfort of home to get dropped in a strange and hostile world or time period, only to find that you're stuck there until someone realizes you're gone and can find a way to get you back.

Alucard pulled at his tie. He could feel the sweat rolling down his back. He had been in this time period for less than a day and already he was starting to get sick of it. However, he had been sent here for a reason. The portal, in its infinite wisdom, must have thought that he had something to offer these officers than the others. Maybe it was because he was a detective himself. He knew the ins and outs of the job; knew how criminals thought. He just had to be careful not to let his secret slip.

"Do you mind if we take a look at the crime scenes?" Alucard asked. "I would like to see them for myself."

"Of course," Murdoch said.

He got up from the desk, grabbing his jacket as he did so. Alucard went over to the coat rack and picked up his own jacket and hat. Murdoch unhooked his hat from the coat rack as he followed Alucard out of the office. Brackenreid watched as the two detectives left the station. He took a sip of his whiskey, but the drink wasn't strong enough to quell the sickening sense of dread that was beginning to creep up his throat. If this new detective posed any threat to his station, and to Murdoch, he was going to kill the man himself.

* * *

Reviews are welcome, flames are not


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N** : Sorry it's taken me so long to update, I never meant for it to go this long. I hope you can forgive me. Here's the next chapter as an apology.

 **Disclaimer** : see chapter one

* * *

Alucard pulled at the tie around his neck, feeling the sweat roll down his back. He was almost afraid to remove his hat. He looked around the clearing, trying to get his mind on something else other than his discomfort. He walked through the tall grass, eyes scanning the scene. They were close to a small wooded area, away from the prying eyes of the city. A perfect spot to dump a body.

"So, this is where you found the first victim?" Alucard asked.

"Yes. She was the one who had the note," Murdoch explained.

Alucard ran his hand across his brow, wiping away the sweat. "Three more will die, then you," he said.

"Yes," Murdoch replied.

Alucard found himself reaching into his pocket for his phone. Chuckling to himself, he pulled his hand out of his pants pocket again and tapped his palm against his leg. Less than a day in 1895 and he was going through technology withdrawal already. Technus would hate it here. Alucard rubbed his eyes, the heat was starting to get to him.

"And you found the first of the three victims...where?" he asked.

"She was on the steps of Station House Four," Murdoch told him.

"That's bold...or brazen," Alucard commented. He walked around, trying to focus his thoughts. "Were there anymore murders?" he asked.

Murdoch shook his head "No, there wasn't," he answered.

"Okay, so, if you want to look at it, Collins was the second one to die," Alucard stated. "So, that just leaves one more."

Murdoch could feel his hands begin to shake again as Alucard's words sank in. Alucard looked over to see the worried look on the detective's face. He walked over and patted Murdoch's shoulder.

"Don't worry, detective, we'll find these men and put them behind bars before they get to you," Alucard assured him.

Murdoch gave him a tight smile and Alucard could hear the doubt rolling around in his thoughts. He patted Murdoch's shoulder again and headed back towards the bikes. Murdoch followed him, rubbing his hands together. The two detectives made their way back to the city and went back to the station house. Murdoch sat down at his desk as Alucard leaned up against the table, crossed his arms and stared at the blackboard.

"Two victims, no suspects," Alucard muttered. "Can't really rule Collins' death a murder since no one actually killed him. So..." He hummed in thought.

"Is there a problem?" Murdoch asked.

"I may have been wrong before," Alucard replied.

"How so?" Murdoch questioned.

Alucard pushed away from the table. "Whoever killed those two girls couldn't possibly have known Collins would be plucked from this time and dropped into mine," he explained. "So, there are still two people left. But, I would much rather figure out who killed the first two ladies before anymore bodies start showing up on the station house's doorstep."

"As would I," Murdoch agreed.

* * *

Heavy footsteps scuffed across the worn wooden floor. Alucard stopped in front of the door of the room he had rented. He unlocked the door and stepped into the room. There was a single bed pushed up against the far wall on the left side of the room, a small bathroom was located on the opposite side across from the bed. Alucard closed and locked the door before heading over to the bed. He dropped his jacket and hat on the bed.

He was thoroughly exhausted, and the humid summer heat wasn't helping. Alucard unbuttoned his vest, dropping it on the bed. He then worked on the tie and shirt. He peeled himself out of the shirt, exposing his tribal tattooed torso to the scorching heat. Alucard went over to the window and pulled the curtains across. He stepped into the middle of the room and took a deep breath. He exhaled quickly and large black wings unfurled from his back. His hair turned from jet black to snow white. Alucard sighed in relief as he stretched his wings.

He wrapped his wings around his body, enveloping himself in some much needed cooler air. Alucard crossed his legs, hovering in mid-air as a bubble of air formed around him. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax. His mind drifted back to his own time. He wondered if Technus was working on a way to get him home. He thought about the two murders and who could have committed them. His mind began to wind down and soon he was falling into a deep, dreamful sleep.

* * *

Brackenreid walked into the station house to find everything in order. His constables were at work, Murdoch was in his office, and there was no sign of that Alucard Raven fellow. The Inspector smiled to himself as he walked into his office. Perhaps the whole thing yesterday had just been a bad dream. Brackenreid placed his hat and jacket on the coat rack and sat down at his desk.

He hadn't been sitting for five minutes before he heard a phone ring across the bullpen. He turned to see Murdoch answering the phone. The detective quickly hung up and grabbed his hat and coat, calling for Crabtree and Higgins. Brackenreid shot to his feet and hurried out the door.

"Murdoch, what's going on?" he called out.

"It's detective Raven, sir," Murdoch replied. "He was attacked."

Brackenreid cursed under his breath and grabbed his hat and coat before following Murdoch and the Constables out the door. Murdoch led them to where the call had come from. Alucard was sitting on a store step, fanning himself with his hat when they arrived. Murdoch looked around. Three men lay unconscious on the ground in front of the store.

"What happened here?" Brackenreid asked.

"Noah Collins' men," Alucard replied. "Or, some of them, at least."

"What do you mean 'some of them'?" Murdoch wanted to know.

Alucard nodded across the street at something that clearly wasn't there anymore. "Three more had been watching from a wagon across the street," he explained. "I guess they thought they could catch me off guard."

"Are you all right, sir?" Crabtree asked.

"Oh, I'm fine," Alucard answered. He pointed at the men on the ground. "It's them you should see too."

Murdoch and Brackenreid looked at each other. The Inspector gave the Detective a wary look. Murdoch knew what that look meant. They hadn't seen the last of Noah Collins just yet.

* * *

Reviews are welcome, flames are not


	9. Chapter 9

"It's fascinating, isn't it?" Julia asked in awe.

"What is?" Murdoch asked back, puzzled.

"The idea of time travel," Julia replied. "It makes one wonder what other mysteries the future has to offer."

Murdoch hummed in thought as they continued to walk. They were slowly making their way through the park, enjoying the summer sun. It had been a while since they had any time together, outside of work. Brackenreid had told the detectives to take a break from the case since there were no new leads and they were both burning themselves out. Alucard had retired to his rooms while Murdoch took the opportunity to go over some things privately with Julia. She was endlessly fascinated by Alucard's claim of being from the future.

Murdoch himself was still grasping the concept of time travel. There were so many variables to consider, he didn't see how it was possible. However, he supposed that, in the future, anything was possible.

"I wonder how well detective Raven is coping," Julia mused.

"He says he's done this before," Murdoch replied.

"Yes, but I'm sure no matter how many times it has happened, being plucked from your own time and dropped into another has to be difficult," Julia said. "How would you feel if you suddenly found yourself in a completely different place, far from home and all things familiar? You would have no way of knowing customs and what's considered appropriate and what isn't."

"You make an excellent point, Julia," Murdoch told her.

"I'm sure if you found yourself in detective Raven's time, you would be just as disoriented as he was," Julia concluded. She sighed as she thought. "In a way, I feel sorry for him."

"We did meet under less than pleasant circumstances," Murdoch agreed. "He was displaced against his will and was automatically accused of murder."

"If your roles were reversed, I'm sure the same thing would have happened," Julia told him. "If detective Raven had found you standing over the body of one of his suspects, he would have thought the same thing you did."

"Another excellent point," Murdoch said. "Any advice on how we should proceed to strengthen our sudden partnership?"

Julia thought for a moment. Murdoch loved the way her eyes sparkled when she thought. If only he had the courage to tell her how he felt about her.

"Get to know him better," Julia finally answered. "Talk to him. Learn more about him. I think you would both benefit. You would learn more about him, and he would learn more about you. It certainly wouldn't hurt."

Murdoch nodded. "And at the very least, what's the worst that can happen?" he asked.

* * *

Crabtree, Higgins and Jackson walked into the pub for a relaxing evening of drinking and unwinding after a stressful day at work. They took a seat near the middle of the room and ordered a round of drinks. Higgins looked around the pub, eyeing the ladies, until his gaze fell on a familiar face at the bar.

"What's he doing here?" Henry asked.

"What's who doing here?" Jackson asked back.

"Raven," Higgins replied.

Crabtree turned to follow his friend's gaze. "He's out enjoying a relaxing drink, Henry," he said. "And, that's _detective_ Raven."

"You know I don't trust him, George," Higgins reminded him.

"That's because you don't know him," Crabtree replied.

"Neither do you," Jackson pointed out.

"That's easily fixed," Crabtree said.

He got up from the table and went over to where Alucard was sitting. The detective from the future glanced up from staring into his drink when Crabtree sat down next to him.

"Good evening, sir," the Constable greeted.

"Good evening, Constable," Alucard greeted back.

"We haven't been properly introduced. I'm George Crabtree," the Constable said.

"Alucard Raven," Alucard said, extending his hand.

George took it and they shook hands. "I thought you had retired for the day," he said, releasing Alucard's hand.

"I was restless," Alucard replied. "Still getting used to being in the past. It's a little disorienting."

"I imagine it is, sir," Crabtree commented.

Alucard took a sip of his whiskey and sighed, running his finger around the rim of the glass. "I just want to know why me. Why am I here? Murdoch is more than capable of solving this case on his own."

"What happened in your time? Before you came here?" Crabtree asked.

"Collins was dropped into my lap," Alucard answered.

"Maybe that's why," Crabtree mused. "Maybe...you were marked in some way. Chosen to be detective Murdoch's protector in this difficult time."

Alucard gave him an amused look. "You must have a lot of interesting ideas about how things work."

Crabtree smiled. "I like to think I have an open mind," he said.

"I dare say you do, Constable," Alucard agreed.

"George," Crabtree said. "You can call me George. Detective Murdoch does."

"As do your friends, I take it," Alucard guessed.

"Indeed they do, sir," Crabtree confirmed. "Speaking of which, come with me and I'll introduce you."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Alucard declined.

Crabtree gave him a puzzled look. "Why not?" he asked.

"I get the feeling they're not as open minded and trusting as you are, George," Alucard replied.

Crabtree waved his hand dismissively. "That's because they haven't met you. I've met you and I think you're a fine chap...if you don't mind my saying, sir."

Alucard smiled. "Not at all, George," he said.

Crabtree sighed in relief. "Thank you, sir. I was afraid I had overstepped my boundaries. But, again, I insist you come meet them. They're fine fellows and I think you would all get along just fine."

Alucard shook his head. "All right, Constable," he caved. "Lead the way."

Crabtree grinned and led Alucard to the table where Higgins and Jackson were sitting. The other Constables looked far less than pleased.

"Detective Raven, these are my good friends, Constable Henry Higgins and Constable Slugger Jackson," Crabtree said.

Alucard smiled warmly and extended his hand. Higgins reached out and shook his hand, not wanting to seem rude. Jackson also shook his hand when it was extended to him.

"A pleasure to meet you two," Alucard said.

"Are you...really from the future?" Higgins asked.

Alucard nodded. "I am," he answered.

"Prove it," Jackson said.

Alucard shifted on his feet, thinking. "What month is this?" he asked.

"August, sir," Crabtree replied.

Alucard nodded. "Next month, September. On the twenty-fourth, it will be the first round-the-world trip by a woman on a bicycle. Annie Londonderry, I believe her name is," he said.

"I heard about her in the papers," Jackson stated.

"She makes it?" Higgins asked in astonishment.

Alucard nodded. "That she does," he answered.

"Remarkable," Crabtree whispered.

"But, if you still don't believe me, keep an eye to the papers when September twenty-fourth rolls around," Alucard said. He stepped to the side as a waitress came and passed the Constables their drinks. "I'm interrupting. I shall bid my farewell and see you all in the morning."

Crabtree reached out and grabbed his arm as Alucard started to walk away. "Nonsense, sir. We'd love to hear stories from the future," he said.

"I must admit, you have me interested," Higgins confessed.

"I thought you didn't trust me," Alucard replied.

A slight blush touched Higgins' cheeks. "I...will admit...I didn't, at first. You just came out of nowhere."

"And with your strange clothes, strange technology," Jackson added.

Alucard nodded in understanding. "I keep forgetting that this is just as big an adjustment for you as it is for me," he apologized. "I honestly didn't mean to cause any alarm. And I certainly didn't mean for it to seem that I had any ill intentions against you and your station house. Especially detective Murdoch."

"Well...if you had meant ill intent, you would have done something by now," Higgins told him.

"Finally seeing reason, are you, Henry?" Crabtree teased.

Higgins' blush deepened. Alucard chuckled and shook his head. In some way, these men reminded him of his own men. Loyal to their fellow Constables and their station house. Ready to defend another officer's honor if need be. It made his heart ache for his own time. However, maybe George had a point. What if the sudden appearance of Noah Collins in his time marked him for something in this one?

Crabtree pulled up another seat and he joined the Constables, ordering another drink. They asked him questions about the future and what they might expect. Alucard told them stories of his own adventures from his time on the Toronto Police force. The pub rang with the sounds of their laughter. It was stuff they could relate to, even so many years into the past. It seemed police work never changed over the long span of time.

The stories never stopped, each Constable regaling stories of their own personal experiences from working for the Constabulary. Alucard laughed so hard he could hardly breathe. They each took turns pointing out stupid or idiotic things the others had done. At one point, Alucard thought it was safe to take a drink, only to spit it out onto Jackson when Crabtree finished telling his story. The incident only made them laugh that much more. Alucard had to wonder what was in the drinks.

Sadly, their night drew to a close and they left the pub, still chuckling to themselves, but in much lighter moods than when they entered. Alucard put on his hat and tipped it to the three Constables.

"Well, gentlemen, it was a most pleasant evening getting to know you three. I look forward to working with you further," he said.

"It was a pleasure for us, too, sir," Higgins replied.

"And, again, sorry for not trusting you," Jackson apologized.

Alucard waved his hand. "Water under the bridge," he said. He looked around. "Now, I have to remember in what direction my boarding house is in."

Crabtree, Higgins and Jackson chuckled as Alucard began walking off. The detective waved as he walked away.

"Until next time, gentlemen," he called over his shoulder.

"Until next time, sir," Crabtree called after him.

Alucard whistled an upbeat tune as he headed off towards his boarding house. His spirits were increasingly lighter. He was in a much better mood than before. Alucard took off his hat and tossed it into the air before catching it again and placing it back on his head. He tipped his hat to a young couple as they made their way out of a restaurant. The young man tipped his hat in reply.

Alucard half walked, half skipped up to his boarding house, climbing the stairs until he reached the third floor. He made his way to his room, unlocked the door and stepped inside. Closing the door behind him, he flicked the key in the lock to secure it. He took off his hat, tossed it on the bed and removed his jacket, vest and shirt, also tossing them on the bed.

His wings unfurled from his back and he wrapped them around his body, enveloping himself in their coolness. Alucard let out a contented sigh as his eyes drifted closed, his body hovering several feet off the floor. Maybe being stuck in the past wasn't such a bad thing, after all. He could relate to these men almost as well he could with officers from his own time.

 _We'll see what tomorrow holds,_ he thought as he drifted off into dreamful slumber.

* * *

Reviews are welcome, flames are not


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N** : I'm sorry! I'm sorry! *runs and hides* I never should have left this story hanging for so long. But, with work and real life, I've been finding it increasingly difficult to find time to write. I hope you can forgive me, and I hope you're still interested in the story. Let this chapter be my peace offering.

 **Disclaimer** : see chapter one

* * *

The silence of the morgue was broken by a rapping on a window pane. Julia looked up from the body she was examining to find Alucard standing at the top of the ramp. She smiled and waved for him to enter. The detective walked down the ramp to stand on the other side of the examination table. Though, he was quite accustomed to the sight of blood, it just looked wrong to be on the hands of a beautiful, elegant woman as Julia Ogden.

"What can I help you with, Detective?" Julia asked, the smile never leaving her face.

"William Murdoch," Alucard answered, cutting to the point.

Julia looked up, surprised. "Detective Murdoch? What do you wish to know?" she asked.

Alucard ran his fingers through his hair, taking a breath before speaking. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around what it is I'm supposed to do," he explained. "I've studied Murdoch ever since I got here, and nothing jumps out at me that he's no more special than you or me."

Julia hummed in thought, looking down at the body on the table. "Well," she started. "At first glance one would think that. But, Detective Murdoch is so much than what he appears to be."

"Such as?" Alucard quizzed.

Julia sighed, thinking. "He's very emotional, yet he hides that emotion behind cool logic. Personally, I think he finds more comfort in logic than in others. But, again, who really knows?"

It was Alucard's turn to sigh. "Emotions aren't going to help me, Doctor," he stated.

"Perhaps not," Julia agreed. "But, the Constabulary, and Toronto in general, would be lost without the passion of Detective William Murdoch. Get to know him, Detective Raven. You might just find a man worth saving."

Alucard nodded and smiled. "Thank you for your insight, Doctor." He tipped his hat. "Good day."

"To you, as well," Julia said.

Alucard turned and walked out of the morgue. Julia's words played through his mind. It was easy for her to say, but Alucard found it difficult getting to know people. However, he hadn't had much trouble getting to know Crabtree and his friends that night at the pub. Maybe it wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. Alucard looked up to see Crabtree hurrying towards the station house. He ran to catch up to the Constable.

"Constable Crabtree," Alucard called. "A moment?"

George turned to see who had called out to him. "Detective Raven, good day," he said.

"Good day, Constable," Alucard replied. "Might I have a moment of your time?"

George looked between him and the door of the station house. "I guess a moment wouldn't hurt, though I am running late."

"This won't take that long," Alucard assured him. "I'll explain to the Inspector that you were helping me with something."

"And what might that something be, sir?" George asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Detective Murdoch," Alucard replied.

George frowned in confusion. "What about Detective Murdoch?" he asked.

"I'm conducting my own investigation," Alucard answered.

"On Detective Murdoch?" Crabtree questioned in confusion.

"I'm just trying to figure out why I suddenly find myself attached to him," Alucard stated.

"Well, that's easy, sir, you're both detectives. You seem to have the same mindset when it comes to solving crimes," George started. "You both think fast on your feet, you work well under pressure." He paused to wipe at his brow again. "If you hadn't claimed to be from the future, sir, I would have thought you and Detective Murdoch were brothers, twins, even."

Alucard hummed in thought. "Doctor Ogden said that same thing when I first arrived," he said.

"She's a very insightful woman," George stated. "We're lucky to be working with her."

"Indeed," Alucard agreed.

"But, anyway, back to the Detective," George said, waving a hand, refocusing his thoughts. "Detective Murdoch has the greatest mind I've ever known. He's come up with all of these bizarre contraptions and inventions to solve crimes. And while others doubt their effectiveness, Detective Murdoch has proven time and again that these things actually work. Take fingermarks, for instance."

Alucard frowned. "Fingermarks?" he asked.

George wiggled his fingers on his right hand. "No two fingermarks are the same," he said.

"You mean fingerprints?" Alucard assumed.

"I suppose," George replied slowly, not really certain.

Alucard shook his head. "Go on," he instructed.

"When Detective Murdoch came up with the idea of processing fingermarks to determine a killer, everyone said he was crazy," Crabtree explained. "But now, we use fingermarks in every case we come across. It's a very useful method of investigation."

"And Detective Murdoch came up with this idea?" Alucard asked for clarification.

"Indeed he did, sir," Crabtree replied with a wide smile. "I feel very fortunate and lucky to work so closely beside him. Though, he's a Detective and I'm simply a Constable, I consider Detective Murdoch to be a close friend. He's been by my side ever since I joined the Constabulary and was positioned here at Station House Four. If I may offer some advice?"

"Go on," Alucard replied.

"Get to know him, Detective Raven," Crabtree said. "You may just find a man worth saving."

With that, he turned and walked off, disappearing into the station house. Alucard stood where he was for a moment. What were the odds of two people saying the exact same thing to him in a matter of minutes? Alucard followed George inside, walking into a cooler environment than what it was outside.

"Ah, Detective Raven," Brackenreid said as Alucard walked into the station house. "Might I have a word?"

"Of course, Inspector," Alucard replied, following Brackenreid into his office.

The Inspector closed the door and walked over to a side table. He poured two glasses of whiskey. He picked them up and handed one to Alucard.

"How are you finding Toronto of the Past?" Brackenreid asked.

Alucard took a sip of his drink. "I'm still trying to figure out why I'm here," he confessed. "Usually when I get blasted to another time or place, there's a problem that needs to be fixed."

"Plenty of problems here," Brackenreid told him.

"Another thing I don't get is Noah Collins," Alucard admitted.

"How so?" Brackenreid asked.

Alucard took another sip of drink. "From what I've seen, he was no genius level mastermind. I don't understand how he could get six men to follow him so easily."

"Maybe they weren't his men," Brackenreid pointed out. "Maybe they were men following the father."

"Maybe," Alucard said. He scratched his head. "And Murdoch."

"What about Murdoch?" Brackenreid asked.

"I'm having trouble figuring out what he's Collins' target. He's just an average police detective," Alucard said.

Brackenreid laughed. "Then you don't know Murdoch," he said. "He is everything but average, Raven. If you just got to know him a little bit, I'm sure he'll surprise you. He's certainly surprised me more than once. We're lucky to have him here at Station House Four." He became thoughtful as he sipped his whiskey. "Fun fact, did you know that Murdoch has had a difficult time here in the Constabulary because of his religion?" Brackenreid asked.

Alucard frowned. "His religion?"

The Inspector nodded. "Murdoch is under constant scrutiny because of the simple fact that he's Catholic."

Alucard's heart plummeted into his stomach. "He's Catholic?" he croaked.

"Very devote," Brackenreid confirmed. "His two passions are the Church and Science, oddly enough. You don't see that, nowadays. A man of both the Church and Science. But, that's Murdoch, for you. Never one to go with the grain. He's stepped on a few toes, but he always gets his man...or woman, depending on the situation." He took another sip of drink. "I don't mind saying, Raven, whatever brought you here knew what they were doing. We've all tried to help him, but Murdoch can be just as stubborn as the rest of us." Brackenreid walked over and put a hand on Alucard's shoulder. "He's lucky you're here. We'd be lost without him. If you'd get to know him, I think you'd find a man worth saving."

Alucard looked at the Inspector in surprise. The same words, spoken from a third person. He had always heard that messages came in threes. Did Ogden, Crabtree and Brackenreid talk to each other beforehand? Or was this someone's idea of trying to get through to him?

Alucard handed the glass back to the Inspector. "Thank you, sir," he said. "I think I'll take your advice."

Brackenreid took the glass. "Very good. I'll leave you to it, then."

Alucard smiled and nodded, heading out the side door. He looked up to find Murdoch pacing his office across the bullpen. Alucard walked into the office and closed the door, making Murdoch look up. His eyes lit up and he smiled.

"Detective Raven, just the man I wanted to see."

Alucard frowned. "I am?" he asked.

"I think I've found something out," Murdoch declared.

"Let's hear it," Alucard said.

He leaned up against a desk and folded his arms as he listened to Murdoch's theory on the men who had attacked him a few days ago. He surmised that they really worked for Noah Collins' father, but only put up with the son because he promised them revenge for their employer's hanging. Murdoch went on to say how he had made some inquiries about the Collins'. Apparently, they were the kind to resort to violence whenever family was wronged, at least in their mind. The neighbours and co-workers he talked to all confirmed it. Joseph Collins was a very vengeful person, he had a number of assault charges against him, but they never went to court because the witnesses and victims were all too scared to testify.

As he listened, Alucard tried to see into Murdoch's thoughts, however, the Detective's mind was closed off to him. There had only been one human that had a mind sealed up to him, and that was Alias. Now, Alias was one of the most powerful Fallen in the group. However, the more Murdoch talked and the more Alucard could see the passion and fire in his eyes, the Detective from the future could only come to one conclusion.

He truly had found a man worth saving.

* * *

Reviews are welcome, flames are not


End file.
